Aryan remained unconcerned about the more obvious details of his situation – things such as his current location or how much time had actually passed since Tavion had beaten and rendered him unconscious. All of that seemed rather inconsequential compared to the strange, pyramidal artifact currently resting in the palm of his hand. Aside from the ethereal glow emanating from its central base, it appeared to vibrate, almost as if the Force itself was speaking directly through its crystalline surface.

It was an odd sensation – one that seemed to resonate within his very soul and felt altogether intimate. In fact, it was stronger than anything he had ever experienced in the Force before, and he knew that he could not dismiss it as mere coincidence.

As if it could sense these thoughts, the Holocron decided at that moment to activate, revealing a cloaked man draped in dark robes. Aryan narrowed his eyes to scrutinize the miniature figure as it shimmered into existence, but before he could investigate further, it began to speak:

"This is unexpected,” the man uttered plainly, his voice tinged with a hint of dismay. “Did it happen in the end? The Twilight War?"

Pursing his lips, Aryan leaned back on his haunches and issued a heavy sigh. He was clearly perplexed, and perhaps even a little disappointed, by such a vague question. While he considered himself fairly proficient in most aspects of galactic history, he could not recall any references to a ‘Twilight War’ – it did not exist. The man was touting nonsense, but perhaps he could now take comfort in the fact that whatever he was referring to had never taken place in this timeline.

If it was even a sentient being that was capable of perceiving such emotions. At this point, he wasn’t so sure.

“No,” Aryan replied simply, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “At least, not that I’m aware of. There have been a lot of wars over the centuries, but none of them have been assigned that specific title. Unless I don’t quite understand your meaning…?”

Inclining his chin marginally, Aryan leaned closer to get a better view of the luminous figure. “I’m afraid I’m out of my league here,” he admitted with a soft scoff. “I’ve never seen anything like this before; I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at...or who I’m addressing.”

"I'm a Holocron," the man said, simply. "A data repository, and recording of my personality." A gesture, more shrug than anything else; muted, as his arms were not raised along with it. "But my name isn't that important."

"I have a few after all; I don't particularly care about your name, for example."

"So if it didn't happen..." he paused. "Or it happened so long as to have passed into memory. Some good; some bad." Another pause, and a stroke of his chin. "I take it the Dark has not been defeated yet?"

It peered around. "I cannot imagine that such conditions are the provenance of the Light winning..."

A wry smirk crossed Aryan’s features as he reclined back and rested his head against the durasteel wall. “That’s an astute observation,” he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He did not appreciate this…Holocron’s cold attitude. It reminded him too much of a droid – and he didn’t exactly care for droids, especially when they were self-indulgent and overbearing.

He wasn’t sure if a recorded personality trapped in the memory banks of a data repository could be considered a true automaton, but it seemed close enough. Even so, what other choice did he have in his current predicament? The Force had gifted this Holocron to him for a reason, and he would be foolish not to take advantage of it in order to aid in his escape.

With a sigh, Aryan canted his head and studied the figure curiously. “Unfortunately, it’s also accurate,” he conceded solemnly. “The Darkness prevails – all thanks to Tavion and her Sith cultists. She intends to unleash a terrible evil on the galaxy, and if she succeeds, there will be nothing left to act as a deterrent for the Darkness to spread. It will consume everything in its path.”

Clenching his jaw, he then closed his eyes against a stab of pain that suddenly clenched at his chest. “She has already managed to corrupt my son,” he murmured in a hoarse whisper.

"Ah yes." He mused, stroking his chin. "The son. I did wonder." With nothing further being added, the man nodded. "Well, I am here, and it behooves me to teach you the ways of the Force, echo or not."

"Tavion... I remember reading about her, before. But, well, we'll have to see. Ragnos, right? Marka Ragnos? The one who defeated Simus on Dwartii, and took the mantle of Dark Lord for a century, or some-such. Bad guy; trying to come back."

The hood remained up, but the man still hesitated even though he had the ability to project whatever emotion he saw fit, but here he was, pausing. "Sorry, I am just thinking. I have a habit of overthinking, mind you." He shrugged. "I take it that the darkness is investigating your echo, hoping to follow it back to the source -"

There was a noise, and the Holocron flashed out of existence, silencing itself. They were about to have company.

Aryan became aware of the slight shift concurrently with the Holocron’s vanishing. It manifested itself as a perceptible chill that ran down the length of his spine, prompting him to curse and spring into action. Without so much as a thought, he clutched the artifact to his chest and hid it within the confines of his jacket. Nevermind that it was bulky and uncomfortable; he was willing to forgo convenience if it meant uncovering the truth about his situation and learning from its vast knowledge.

In fact, it was the first time someone had arranged to teach him about the Force. It was something he had yearned for ever since discovering his talents in that detention cell all those years ago. But more than that, the Holocron had offered him one very important thing – hope.

Holding onto that promise, Aryan drew his knees up to his chest and resumed a more prone position to appease his captors.

The spirits seemed annoyed with Ka'rta; she was immune to their contrivances, and Refined Voice snorted. You bore us. Your death will be the only entertainment you can offer. Rasping Voice had nothing to add, and silence prevailed.

Kenix paused, blinking away his concerns. "Sorry, Ka'rta - I saw you and Solo in the crystal, but it must be a trick. This place," he gestured, as the others spread themselves out. "It is built on tricks; atop more and more evil until it has condensed and purified it into the blackest of things." He shuddered. "Sorry to wax, but how you're handling this so well is almost as scary of this place."

The man turned to face the way they had came. "I wonder how long we'll be waiting here."

"Not very long."

The voice sounded as if it was right behind them, and Kenix jumped. It was, it was, him.

Marka Ragnos

"She will be with you shortly. With my Scepter, loaded with the collected Force essences of a dozen sites. When she arrives, you will defend my tomb to the last man and woman."

A pause.

"Do you understand?"

Kenix, as was becoming his habit, looked to Ka'rta, because all of this was so far above his pay-grade he had no idea what he was even doing here anymore.

The Imperial Star Destroyer arrived, and as it did, an evolution occurred aboard the warship. Shuttles burst free from its main hangar bay, conveying troopers and Sith cultists in droves, coming to take a world as the New Sith Empire's capital. Today, they would greet Marka Ragnos as he returned from the depths, and he would reunify the Imperials against the New Republic.

Foreteller grinned to himself, and Voren pouted. This was as expected; it gave them a good cover to depart. He is not a Force user in the strictest sense, nor is he Jedi. He is carrying an echo of the Force, echoing down from the past. It's quite complicated.

All of a sudden they felt the volcano of power that was Tavion leave the ship, and they sighed. Hurry, hurry. Within moments, Linnett's wish was true, and they were before the shuttle in the Flag Hangar, sneaking aboard. It was a standard Imperial shuttle, primed to depart, but waiting for a pilot. A route had been pre-programmed; a location away from the main battle that was to begin.

A series of communications flowed between the secret location on Korriban and the shuttle, separate from the target of the Tomb of Ragnos. Coordinates corresponding, yes, with the X on Tavion's shuttle map; to where many of them were now heading.

As soon as Linnett arrived, however, she would detect the Box, sitting in the cargo bay.

The Foreteller lifted her arm for her and gestured with the Force, revealing Aryan Graul, a disheveled mess of a man.

Their exultation merged with the Force, and Lumiya looked up, as she guided the shuttle, having haphazardly dressed and rearmed. "Syren, you need to make yourself strong in the Force; a wall, before this world consumes you whole." As she took them down, coming to a disheveled looking collection of stone that could only be described as a cloister, isolated but secure. The door looked ancient, completely in disuse.

Lumiya stood at the base of the ramp. "There is something here, my apprentice. A connection between then and now, and I know not what it portents to. When I served Vader, I had peers, and rivals. Many of them are dead; most of them, in-fact. But some, some who prayed for Palpatine to return from the grave, they exist still, and I imagine they will continue their vigil of his Empire."

"The Scepter that Tavion has; it resurfaced quite suddenly on Commenor, in the hands of an unknown collector. She took him and his collection, and as much as I traipsed his abandoned shop, I could never connect with him anymore than snatches of a man. He was a Master of concealing himself; I did not even sense him aboard the Resurrection, which suggests he is probably dead now."

A flash in her mind; intuition - a vision.

"A skull in the prison cell of the Resurrection, belonging to the man who collected Sith artefacts."

The area seemed to warp, and even Syren would feel it; the sensation that this moment was being repeated, time and time again; a Force deja vu.

But she would also feel a distinct tug into the cloister, and the door rattled as it rose for her, revealing only shadow.

Urgency tugged at Lumiya and Syren, but not danger.

In orbit, however, the shuttles and TIEs began to stream into orbit.

And then, at very least two presences in the Force laughed out.

Rasping Voice and Refined Voice were here, fresh from having spent most of the day taunting Ka'rta.

Lumiya paused. She could feel herself dislocate, and could head inward, or allow herself to slip. She grew concerned that Syren, who was less grounded in the Force than her, even moreso less aware of the vagaries of a Sith tombworld, would be curious enough to reach into the miasma and allow whatever vision she saw to occur.

The Dark Lady went to speak, but suddenly felt her throat constricted.

Syren would have to figure it out on her own; whether to follow the tug; whether to let herself flow into whatever the world was trying to show her; to respond to the laugh of laughs of laughs.

TAG: @QueenSabe7
---Roughly equidistant between the Cloister and the Tomb

The ship went down.

Hard.

Well, relatively hard.

Not hard enough to blow up unceremoniously.

Hard enough to rip them from their seats, or, rather their seats from the ground.

To hurl the dead trooper and Tavion's personal effects into the cockpit and the body through the front viewport.

To dislocate Rouser's shoulder; an incredible pain would fill the joint.

To bloody Feyna's head; a concussion would form.

But they were down.

Laughs surrounded them.

Refined Voice and Rasping Voice.

These two seemed to be enjoying tormenting them all.

The shuttle had smashed into a tomb entrance in the Valley of the Dark Lords, a very helpful readout would tell them. The rear ramp spilled open, before falling off entirely, rebounding down a set of steps that led into the valley main. Sensors, if consulted, would reveal a wave of life forms, all of varying sizes, and a small invading army rushing towards the Tomb of Marka Ragnos.

The location of the shuttles original target was not far from here, either.

If Rouser was awake enough, he would recognize the tomb as belonging to Tulak Hord, a renowned Dark Lord of the Sith from two thousand years before the time of Marka Ragnos. In theory, they could climb out the front of the shuttle into the said tomb, but the howling was coming from the tomb...

That was Pascale’s thought as the shuttle crashed hard into Korriban. Feyna had done well not to plaster them both within the Valley. Pascale along with Feyna had been roughly hurled from their seats and had been given a rather rough landing. He growled as he felt his shoulder pop out and dislocate. He would have to get that sorted if he needed to wield any weapons. He also felt like his head had taken a whack but he was awake enough to take a look at the now smashed shuttle.

The trooper went flying out and within the now ruined cockpit was some of Tavion’s bits and bobs. Some of her more skimpy offerings by the looks of it as well as some other things. They would be of no use unless Feyna wanted to play dress up.

Feyna looked like she had come off worse, she was injured with a head wound and no doubt thanks to the landing had one thumping headache. Rouser would have to find a medkit and try and patch her up, hopefully he could be able to do it with only one hand.

Luckily the sensors and some other bits and pieces were working still, he quickly consulted them before going to retrieve the medpack. Oh great, a horde going towards the Tomb of Ragnos, we are parked inside another Sith tomb, we are not far from the Cloister either and this shuttle is rather bashed to bits. A no win situation, I hate those. And from the tomb in front of them were howling noises. Fantastic.

What also wasn't helping was a couple of voices had decided to join the fun and were now tormenting him, he responded with a rather impolite thought of SHUT UP.

As the shuttle decided it would disintegrate itself by the rear ramp falling completely off Pascale stood up shakily and wandered around looking for the medkit. Eventually digging through the debris he found it and brought it back to the cockpit. He gently began to try and clean her wound.

“I don’t know if you are awake in there, but I congratulate you for getting us down, perhaps a little rougher than expected” he chuckled, “You have suffered a head wound and unfortunately I have dislocated my shoulder, might need you to pop that back in” he smiled at that.

“Well we are here on Korriban, however we have a problem, well a couple actually. We have a rather big posse of people heading to the Tomb of Ragnos, looks like Tavion and her folks have arrived I would guess. The Cloister is not far away from here either, the one which was marked with an X. I couldn't see if anyone was going there either. However we seem to have parked up in another Sith tomb, this one of Tulak Hord, known as the Lord of Hate and the Master of the Gathering Darkness” he snorted “Charming”.

“His tomb was built by his loyal followers after his death and rumour has it that there are many traps inside to scare away any looters. And unfortunately there are some rather nasty howling noises coming from there so I wouldn't want to go in there, unless you want to get mauled by some nasty beasts. I don’t know where you want to go, but I will follow you and look after you as I said before. We have to stick together to get through this”

A slight smirk came to Ka'rta's face as the voices turned away in disgust. She wasn't dying this day. She finally got them to shut up their snide comments their constant goading, she would be better without them. Now without their distractions she could focus more now on Kenix and what he was saying.

"Sorry to wax, but how you're handling this so well is almost as scary of this place."

"Just accept that nothing in this place is real and you're ok." She said somewhat off handedly. "We have a job to do, focus on that, keeps your head clear." Sure she was hiding a lot. She didn't understand and was annoyed and put off by everything going on around her, but her anger and knowledge that there was a job to do kept her pushing forward kept her from listening to the voices that tried to push her, tried to get her to be stupid.

A voice boomed from behind her her hand reached towards her weapons instantly.

"She will be with you shortly. With my Scepter, loaded with the collected Force essences of a dozen sites. When she arrives, you will defend my tomb to the last man and woman."

She turned to the aperishion tightening her hand a little as a shiver ran up her spine. The voice more forceful and ringing in her mind. Keeping her composure though one could see subtle tension rising in her muscles.

"Understood."

Kenix looked to her and she turned to him lowering her brow thankful that her helmet hid the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

"Yeah, but what are we facing and how much ground can we give up...make whoever is coming pay for each bloody centimeter." Her heart was still beating in her chest thought she was trying to keep a waver out of her voice. In the back of her mind she wondered what she was doing here anyway. Though she didn't know if she quiet wanted die for this cause...though what was she going to die for...she nearly did already.

The power in the voice had quieted her usual gruff nature, softened that edge she would have used to cut her clients with.

IC: Feyna MorrowCrash site, Between the Cloister and the Tomb, what’s left of Tavion’s personal shuttle

She’d known it would be an ugly landing, and at least they hadn’t blown up on impact, but it was still worse than she’d hoped.

Something hit her head as the chair ripped out of the floor, and she must have blacked out.

When she started to come ‘round again, she could hear Rouser speaking, but her head hurt so much, it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. Once she was able to focus, she realized that he was trying to clean up the wound on her head, albeit with only one functioning hand; his other arm hung awkwardly at his side, and she thought she heard him say it was dislocated.

“…I don’t know where you want to go, but I will follow you and look after you as I said before. We have to stick together to get through this,” Rouser said as he finished cleaning her up. Feyna carefully sat up, taking stock of their situation while she waited for her head to stop spinning.

They’d crashed in a crypt; not the Tomb that Tavion was after, though they weren’t far, nor was the Cloister, but there was apparently something other than a dead Sith in Hord’s tomb—several noisy, howling somethings. They’d have to deal with that to get out, but they needed to figure out where they were going, first, and considering that they were both injured, she didn’t much like their options.

Finally; “Let’s find some weapons first, we’re gonna need them wherever we decide to go, and see if we can find my comlink.” It had gone flying in the crash; hopefully it still worked. “I want to call Drayson and touch base with him.”

Pulling on a pair of slacks and a nondescript tunic, both of darker hues and sporadically splattered with blood, Syren quickly stepped into her boots without lacing them as Lumiya resumed control of their craft. The shuttle guided them down through the planet’s atmosphere, eventually the surface speeding into view.

"Syren, you need to make yourself strong in the Force; a wall, before this world consumes you whole,” her Master urged, to which she obeyed.

Her eyes zeroed in on their destination as it came up at them from the horizon – a random collection of stones surrounded by nothing but a vast stretch of land. They were ancient in appearance and partially disintegrated by the winds of change and time. The held great significance, however, her senses told her as much. Only using the meager skills she had, the curious Sith Apprentice grasped onto the sight with her focus and her thoughts just as she could intone the rising tide of darkness working its shadowy fingers into her consciousness. That ‘wall’ Lumiya instructed she’d need did not require an explanation, the stagnant power here easily swallowing her mind whole if she had been any less strong than she was now.

Holding onto this barrier throughout their final approach and landing, Syren followed the Sith Lord out into the wastes of Korriban. The pair stood at the bottom of the ship’s ramp and she could feel Lumiya struggle to understand a few hidden mysteries about their journey. She listened perceptively, if not understanding entirely.

"A skull in the prison cell of the Resurrection, belonging to the man who collected Sith artefacts."

Syren’s brow furrowed, stepping in closer to her Master. “Did you see something?”

She wouldn’t hear an answer even if Lumiya could give it – something did change and suddenly. The air, the ground, the Force, time… it was all of it. There was a pressure throughout her body that pushed deep into the recesses of her mind. A flash of thought and her eyes darted about, conjuring a familiar feeling about this very moment but unable to explain why or how.

A Voice laughed out from nothing, two Voices, and Syren started to feel dizzy. “What was that?” she asked her Master, but taking one tipsy look at the other woman told her she might experiencing the same, like she was not fully attached to reality any longer.

The laughter continued, and with it she felt an ethereal tug – an unseen presence brushing at the back of her mind, beckoning her to fall in on herself, down into the fabric of the Force that bound this place. She shook her head, refusing weakly, only to stumble a step. “I feel… strange…” she whispered, though she could not sense fear in her spiking emotions.

There was intrigue. A desire.

Also a lack of knowledge in order to resist.

Without actually making a hard-line choice, Syren simply allowed the pull to take her the next time it tried. The echoes of disembodied chuckles following her as she fell.

It had seemed a little too easy, how Madelyn was able to make it to the hanger in one piece. She was nervous, and knew once she hit the ground she would feel a little better, Less trapped. But Madelyn felt something off when she reached the shuttle.

She turned and could see a disheveled man through the force, and slowly made her way towards the box he was kept in, reaching out; only slightly with her senses. [Who's in there? Is he on our side?]

Much like Linnett, Aryan found himself pondering very similar questions – he didn’t know who to trust and or where to turn, especially after witnessing his son’s betrayal. In some ways, perhaps he was even confused by the circumstances surrounding his current predicament. This feeling was only compounded when the young woman made her approach. He had expected Tavion to return to finish what she had begun, so he was naturally wary of a stranger in his midst.

Squinting against the light streaming down from above, Aryan practically collapsed to the deckplates in a pitiful state upon his release, seemingly too weak to hold himself up under his own weight. As he sunk to his knees, he reflexively held the Holocron in a protective embrace to prevent it from slipping out of his jacket. It was in this vulnerable position that he finally took note of his prison and winced; he hadn’t realized that Tavion had confined him to a literal box. This discovery caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably, though he forced himself to redirect his attention to the woman standing nearby.

“You’re not with her,” he stated plainly, angling his chin up to scrutinize her under a careful eye. “She controls who has access, and you don’t strike me as one of her loyal followers. You…feel different. Still dark, but not as tainted.”

Pressing his lips together, Aryan canted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Who are you?”

The Foreteller seemed to smile. [Found one.]

Voren didn’t. [He feels different in the Force; but he’s not a Disciple - not a plant.]

[Dark can sense different darks, eh?]

[Shush.]

The Foreteller shrugged inside Linnett’s mind. [There’s nothing telling us not to trust him, and he is a prisoner... sure he’ll have his secrets, but who doesn’t?]

[That's true. We can bring him along for now.]

Madelyn gave the man a once over before she answered. "I'm Madelyn Linnett. I'm an Emperors Hand." She flushed a bit and nodded to him. "I'll get you out of there. But..." Madelyn paused, pursed her lips. "...you'll also be coming with me off this awful ship." Madelyn added, "I'd like to know who you are first." She started examining the box to see how she could open it undetected.

Madelyn felt embarrassed and opened the box. She realised time was of the essence. Madelyn reached inside and grabbed the man’s hand, pulling him outside. "We need to leave. Now."

Things were moving too quickly for Aryan’s liking. He found it odd that the woman would appear wary of him one minute, but then insist on rushing him to safety in the next. She hadn't even afforded him a moment to answer her question about who he was. It made him doubt her motivations for rescuing him, especially since she identified herself as an Emperor’s Hand. That was why he visibly flinched and hesitated when she snatched his hand.

And yet, what other choice did he have? She had freed him from his prison – freed him from Tavion.

“Aryan Graul,” he uttered against his better judgment, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable as his own. He also managed to stagger to his feet, though he was still unstable and swayed precariously. “I served in the Senate several years ago, but--well, I guess that’s not important.” A rueful grin touched his lips as he shook his head slowly.

“Why are you doing this?” he continued after an awkward pause, his blue-gray eyes shifting to study her curiously. “Helping me, I mean.”

Madelyn realised that she must seem foolish, trying to rush him away and slowed down a little. But it had been so long since she had interacted with another physically living being.

"Tavion tried to kill me." Madelyn pointed out, the grip on his hand tightened as he swayed. "I know most people...they don't trust Hands. But I know you don't want to return to Tavion's grasp." Madelyn stopped and then asked, "We need to leave. Please let me help you."

Aryan furrowed his brow, her words triggering a recent memory from his arrival aboard the Resurrection – he could recall the Disciples gathered around Tavion as she revealed two prisoners in their midst. The Sith woman then lifted her Sceptre to conduct a Force ritual of some kind, but Aryan had turned away before he could witness its effects. Even then, he was still able to connect the dots and form a narrative in his mind – it all made sense now.

“You were in the hangar,” Aryan stated with a sobering expression. “One of the prisoners Tavion touted around in front of her congregation...and you survived the experience.” He was genuinely surprised at that revelation, though he did not push the issue. If she was resilient enough to escape and reach a position where she could free others, he wasn’t going to argue. Despite being an Emperor’s Hand, they now had a common goal. That was good enough for him.

Aryan even briefly considered telling her about Arek’s involvement, but ultimately decided against it. That wound was still fresh. It pained him that this woman – this stranger – had stepped up to offer him assistance where his own son had failed.

No. He had refused, he reminded himself wearily.

Inhaling deeply to push that thought from his mind, Aryan refocused his attention on the matter at hand and nodded slowly. “Fine,” he finally relented, clenching his jaw to tighten his resolve. “I hope you have a plan.”

"I had help." Madelyn answered bashfully. [I don't think I need to tell you the details though.]"Tavion is strong, but if we encounter her again stay behind me."

Madelyn winked at him at the mention of a plan. "I always have a plan." She smiled a little, and felt his wariness through the force. "Let's take a little flight shall we?" She turned and began to lead him away from the crate, reaching out to Foreteller and Voren.

[We need to leave as quickly as possible.Is that shuttle still clear?]

Voren replied first. [All clear.]

Foreteller huffed that he had been beaten to the punch. [Yeah, all clear.]

[Thanks.] Madelyn thought back. And she helped Aryan onto the shuttle and onto a seat. She closed the ramp behind them and turned toward him again, wondering if she could help him in any way before they took off.

Aryan withdrew into himself and remained fairly reticent as his rescuer, this Emperor’s Hand, led him to the shuttle and what she perceived as safety. Of course, under their newfound partnership, he had no reason to doubt her, but he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that stirred his vexation. He knew it was this place itself and what it represented; what Tavion had put him through and still intended to carry out. It washed over his senses with an aura of foreboding.

They had to move quickly if they wanted a chance. Tavion would not remain unaware for long.

Settling down in the seat after Linnett had generously lent him support, Aryan canted his head and watched her make the preparations for the launch. He remembered her assertion that she had formulated a plan for their escape and decided to use that to spur her progress.

“So, about this plan of yours,” he drawled with his brow raised curiously. “Where are you taking us?” His voice sounded tense to his own ears, but he chalked that up to the urgency, and perhaps the thrill, of his impending freedom. "Did you dial in a destination?"

The Foreteller's cloaked face drifted over the displays, insofar as much as Voren was staring at Aryan. [His Force feels strange, Linnett. Be careful. It's not... normal. It's... borrowed.]

[An echo,] the Foreteller said, absently. [The shuttle is locked into a course on Korriban, so we can only go, or go. The coordinates are secret... they were keyed in by Tavion herself.]

For a moment, the shadow of Tavion, a past moment, became evident, as the Foreteller swept a hand. She was even visible to Aryan, and for a brief moment so too were the ghosts hovering above her. A Force power, showing the imprint of recent events, they all understood, though Aryan would think Linnett had done it.

There was excitement building in Foreteller.

Madelyn looked back Aryan with curiosity. [Do you think she tried to turn him into a Force-sensitive then? Is that possible?] She smiled at his question. "We're going to the surface of Korriban first. I need to gather information for a research project I've been studying." Madelyn turned away for a moment as the shuttle took off for the surface of Korriban.

"After that, we can steal another ship and go wherever the New Republic won't find us." Madelyn turned back to Aryan, before pulling out her Book of Sith from her bag and holding it in her lap. "You should rest for a bit. When we get to the surface, you should stay close to me."

The afterimage of Tavion and the two mysterious specters left a vivid impression on Aryan’s awareness.

Had they been real or simply figments of his imagination?

While it was possible for someone of Linnett’s talents to project such a striking illusion, he found it strange that she did not react to it either way. That made this incident all the more concerning. For the first time since his incarceration, Aryan had to wonder if the physical and mental abuse he had sustained under Tavion’s watch was beginning to take a toll on his psyche. Was he hallucinating?

That question rolled around inside his mind as he stared blankly at the forward viewport, his gaze focused on the spot where the apparitions had been, seeing but not really perceiving the reality that stretched out before his very eyes. He was only mildly aware of the sound of Linnett’s voice as she recommended that he rest.

Rest.

Yes, that would probably help to clear his head.

Aryan was about to comply with her wishes by offering a small nod, but then he recalled what she had said about heading to the surface of Korriban – straight into the gundark’s nest. That snapped him out of his stupor and he leaned forward, his hand closing around the back of the pilot’s chair in a white-knuckled grip.

“Under the circumstances, I think your research project can wait,” Aryan grumbled testily, his chin dipping slightly to regard her with a disapproving look. “Going to the surface is a death wish, especially since that’s what Tavion probably wants us to do. She’ll be waiting.”

He idly noted the worn, leather-bound book resting in her lap, though he resisted the urge to draw attention to it. With her apparent fascination with Korriban itself, he could only guess at its origins and what dark secrets it had hidden within its pages. That thought made him increasingly more uneasy.

“Look, we can head back to Nubia,” he suggested with growing consternation. “There’s a bunker in the mountains behind my facility where you can hold up and conduct your research until the conflict passes. The New Republic has lost most of its prior influence over that region, so you’ll be safe.”

But as the silence stretched on, Aryan had a sinking feeling that Linnett wasn’t about to waver on her decision. They were going to Korriban, whether he approved or not.

OOC: This is a post which has multiple scenes to one narrative; reading it all is not necessary but it will provide a full picture. But basically... you've made it to the Battle of Korriban. Good luck, eh?

The ship was locked in, and it launched shortly after Aryan's protestation; the flagship had arrived in the Korriban system - to reclaim the Sith homeworld.

As they spilled into orbit beside TIE fighters, the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Resurrection was evident, and shuttles were launching carrying a horde of Disciples of Ragnos; the Sith unleashed. In the Force, their shouts of rage, jubilation, madness and even fear resonated around them, hammering at Linnett and Aryan, whose sensitivity was increasing to such things; while Syren had training from her master, Lumiya, Aryan had none, and it would crash into his psyche.

But Linnett would sense the damage it could inflict, and Voren commented upon it. "He'll need help if he is to survive this."

The Foreteller lamented. "Let alone Korriban itself."

The homeworld of the Sith was a dark side marvel; an indelible wound upon the Force, an intermingling of millions of Sith over the millennia, leaving their impression upon the sandy world.

Then a burst of light filled the Force, and the Foreteller grinned, and Voren winced.

The Force rose up around Syren, and she found herself transformed. There was something unearthly about this place, and this time. She would instinctively know that she was somewhere beyond this point, and indeed, she was standing at a feast table, surrounded by joviality and the success. There were darknesses here, many of them, dozens of black-cloaked and robed men and women, and a single person-shaped corpse hanging from a rope above them all; it was covered up, as if a party surprise to be revealed later.

At the head of the table were three; all humanoid.

A woman and two men, and amongst the chatter was the dolling out of planets in victory; Coruscant had just fallen to them, and they had defended Korriban from an enemy Pantheon of some kind. The Sith gathered were a deeply curious gathering; a Zabrak, a looming Ssi-Ruuvi, humans of all skin colour and even chalk white and blue, a Wookiee, an Ithorian, usually a peace loving species, and a toast. A canoodling couple there, a pairings of females here and there, clearly masters and apprentices - and was that a man in Jedi robes in the corner? It was... and another man, in the robes of office more traditionally associated with a politician. There were other Sith too; a snivelling voice rippling out, cutting across the discussion as if a dragon sniping.

Rasping Voice.

Without further ado the Emperor at the head of the table levitated a goblet of wine to his hand. Inlaid with green jewels, the golden vessel looked oversized, but it served its purpose. He raised the drink. 'To the Empire.' With a swig, he indicated with it. 'Please, be seated.'

There was a rustling and an exertion in the Force somewhere that tugged the seat from beneath his new apprentices backside the moment she sought to sit. The speaker paid it no heed. Hazing was deliberate; it was not as if the entire Sith Order was present.

With a maniacal grin, the man smiled to them all. 'Let us begin!'

Drink and revelry flowed forth, and Syren would notice one woman in particular amongst it all.

Post 925
---Closer to the Cloister than the Tomb of Marka Ragnos, Valley of the Dark Lords, in the front of the Tomb of Tulak Hord

“…I don’t know where you want to go, but I will follow you and look after you as I said before. We have to stick together to get through this,” Rouser had said as he finished cleaning her up. Feyna had carefully sat up, taking stock of their situation while she waited for her head to stop spinning.
“Let’s find some weapons first, we’re gonna need them wherever we decide to go, and see if we can find my comlink.” It had gone flying in the crash; Feyna had realised. “I want to call Drayson and touch base with him.”

Feyna would be able to find it with some ease; it was near her. Similarly, their blasters had skittered to the floor near the open cockpit; the depths of darkness and the noises echoed from deeper in the tomb of Tulak Hord; they were getting closer. The ramp to the shuttle dropped off it's hinges, revealing the way out.

Her comlink activated, revealing it's location wedged into a groove in the floor, which caused it to automatically accept the call. "This is Drayson; we're en route, Feyna, the Jedi are closer so they are coming first to stop Tavion. If you can hear this; stay out of the battle - you've done your part. The military will finish things off when we reach you. Find some safe cover and stay put until we can evacuate you."

The noises in the tomb turned into a growl, and bounding towards them, evident ever so-slightly in the sunlight, was a tukata hound, disturbed by their crash. It was too large to leap into the ship via the broken cockpit screen, but it was going to give the shuttle a hard shove when it slammed into it.

"Yeah, but what are we facing and how much ground can we give up...make whoever is coming pay for each bloody centimeter." Ragnos could feel her heart was still beating in her chest though she was trying to keep a waver out of her voice. She wondered what she was doing here anyway. Though she didn't know if she quite wanted die for this cause...

She had been cowed by his voice.

Marka Ragnos approved.

Comms told them all that they needed to know; the Disciples of Ragnos had arrived. Sentan Moor had been shot down by an intruder, and was understood to be dead; another shuttle, supposedly carrying Tavion, had also crashed landed somewhere else in the Valley - in the direction that Ka'rta had chosen not to take during the skirmish with the tuk'ata.

"My apprentice is not dead; there was rogues at work. Ones you need not trifle with." A spectral hand caressed her chin; but he pulled it back before she bit; he could sense reserves of strength, and Ragnos approved.

The others were completely terrified, and then, the spirit looked up.

"They have found us."

Reports rushed in; dozens one or two-man fighters and transports were rushing into the system; the Star Destroyer was opening fire but every ship managed to get by them, wiping out a sizeable contingent of the TIE fighters and slowly Stormtrooper transports along the way without any casualties. There was not a common ship among the new arrivals, but a red-painted X-wing led the way.

It's call-sign was Red 5.

Luke Skywalker and his New Jedi Order.

Ragnos snarled. "Secure the entrance to the Tomb; the Disciples are on the way but the Jedi may attempt to cut-off the Disciples as they advance upon here; they are Sith; specific assaults like commandos are known for are not their specialty..." Ragnos knew how to command troops, and as the Sun Guard began to shift to go - perhaps even to flee from Ragnos, he lifted a clawed hand. "Ten thousand credits bonus to every man who kills a Jedi."

Tavion glowered as her second shuttle headed to the surface. Ships had been stolen from the Resurrection and Sentan, head of Czerka, was now missing, crashed somewhere in the Valley. She would have to secure him... but the Jedi had arrived, and a full battle was beginning.

As it should she thought, grinning darkly. Light against Dark; winner take all.

Allowing herself to follow the connection, she sensed the Dark Jedi that she had killed in the prison block was alive, and she hissed. But, she was present with the Echo, and so all was good; the shuttle they had commandeered was going exactly where she wanted Aryan Graul to go. Pascale Rouser, too, but he was -

Oh.

How useful.

There was another Echo present, and Tavion grinned.

The true plans at the secret heart of the Disciples of Ragnos were coming to fruition.

The Second Imperium would be complete even as she resurrected Marka Ragnos to destroy the Jedi.

Her shuttle headed straight for the tomb entrance, a quartet of Stormtroopers ready to assist. Across the Valley, her Disciples were settling down to secure tactical points. With her ship so close to the sandy surface, the Jedi ships would not detect her; nor would they be able to use their Force powers to locate a specific tomb - but she had her Master's spirit to follow, and she reached out, allowing her dark, dark, dark presence to brush the Sun Guard's minds and send a chill down all their spines.

Madelyn regarded Aryan carefully; wondering just how she was supposed to start training him. Korriban was very different; it held it's own darkness; sheltered from the light and while Madelyn had wanted an apprentice for a long time; he wasn't who she expected. She reached out to Voren and Foreteller softly; letting them know without words that she was going to try and help Aryan.

I have to bring the Sith Order back somehow.

Maybe he will be the first of many apprentices?

Taking a slow breath, Madelyn reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder; gently reaching out with the force to pull Aryan's own sensitivity towards her. "It hurts now because its new; you have never had to feel everything around you. But follow my voice and take a deep breath. I can help you control it; but you need to trust me."

There was a burst of light and Madelyn turned sharply, wondering just why Foreteller was so happy with this new arrival. "So, anyone want to explain what just happened?" Madelyn said out loud as they continued to descend to Korriban's surface.

And no help either in fixing his arm even though he had decided to help clean her up and make sure she had’nt suffered a serious injury….

Sometimes I wonder why I continue being gentlemanly he thought as he stood up a little shakily. Feyna of course wanted to find some weapons, although with only one arm he would not be a lot of use. It seemed she also wanted to contact Drayson who was no doubt her boss or someone like that. And a little bit of New Republic firepower would not go amiss.

Perhaps they can compensate me for losing my yacht as it is still docked aboard the Resurrection….

And there was no way he was probably going to get Fortuna back now, not unless he infiltrated the Star Destroyer and snuck it back out. Oh well.

Back to their present predicament and it was probably time to leave this shuttle, Tavion could bill him for that later. But the howling noises and other ghastly sounds were getting closer. So it may come down to a fight, he still had his vibroblades in his boots and the blaster rifle from the dead stormtrooper (Feyna hopefully still had hers from her disguise) so at least he was slightly better armed. And was there something stirring inside him? He was feeling a strange tingle but perhaps it was from his injuries.

And then Drayson called: the New Republic were here and in force. Basically the advice was to stay out of the way until the shooting stops.

“I think it may be time to leave this death trap” he said “although our options are not looking good. I’d say that tomb is off limits even though I would like to take a look I don’t fancy going in there with all those noises” he shook his head “With a horde going towards the Tomb of Ragnos i’d say that is out as well. I guess we try and hole up in a cave or safe place until the shooting stops and kill anything that approaches us, namely nasty beasties and any of Tavion’s thugs. I don’t like killing but in this situation i’ll make an exception”

With his good hand he picked up his rifle “And if you would be so kind to pop my arm back in it’s socket I would be grateful. I would be no use as a bodyguard if I could only shoot or fight with one arm”

A thing which could only be described as a rather big hound like creature started bounding towards them, no doubt not liking the fact that they had crashed there but it was probably pleased that a couple of humans had dropped into its lap for a bit of dinner.

“Time to go, I hope Drayson decides to get his and the Jedi’s backsides down here, otherwise we might end up being dinner” he quickly moved to where the ramp was and prepared to jump off and run for it. He decided to follow the tingle and direct his thoughts towards the beast with one simple word….

STOP

He jumped out and started making his way out watching to see if Feyna followed him….

It started as a mere whisper; a quiet rustling that skirted along the very edge of his awareness and caused a chill to run down the length of his spine. Aryan felt himself reflexively shudder in response, but for the most part, he was able to control his urges. He initially thought it was only a natural reaction to the planet below and the darkness that forever churned in its depths. It was likely having a profound impact on his perceptions, especially since he was still so raw after his torment under Tavion.

But he was wrong.

There was no warning before the next barrage hit him at full force – a plethora of voices, all shouting in different languages and dialects as they vied for attention; it was impossible to determine what any single one was saying or why. The only way to describe it was complete and utter chaos.

All of this slammed relentlessly into Aryan’s psyche, causing both physical and mental anguish. With an audible groan that rumbled from deep within his throat, he reached up with both hands and grasped desperately for his head, his teeth clenched tightly in pain. He was no longer aware of his surroundings and simply allowed himself to crumble to the deckplates as he lost control of his faculties and began to thrash about. By this point, his groans had dissolved into agonizing screams.

He was just beginning to accept the welcoming embrace of oblivion as it crept steadily across his line of sight, but before the darkness could overtake him completely, one singular voice broke through the onslaught. It was soothing and calm, seeming to pulse with greater clarity than the rest. Aryan quickly latched onto it, desperate for a reprieve.

"It hurts now because it’s new; you have never had to feel everything around you. But follow my voice and take a deep breath.”

Aryan gasped between screams, struggling to regain his mental processes. That voice. It sounded familiar. Was that--?

“Lin--Madelyn,” he said in a hoarse whisper, one hand reaching out blindly for her position. “I--I can’t…AUGH!”

The madness continued, washing over him in another intense wave that sent him flailing once more.

“I can help you control it,” Linnett urged with more intensity. “But you need to trust me."

Trust.

What did an Emperor’s Hand know about trust?

Aryan wanted to resist, but he simply did not have the strength to win this fight. He was at his breaking point, and he had no other choice – not if he wanted to survive. Still trembling beneath the burden of the assault, he nodded his head and closed his eyes to concentrate. As he inhaled deeply, he tried to envision himself and Linnett alone on an endless plain, isolated from the deafening cacophony that threatened to overwhelm him.

Only him and Linnett.

Focus on her voice.

“I...I think--I trust you,” Aryan muttered quietly, his features still tense from the strain. He was too caught up in the moment to realize that she had inquired further about their present situation. Instead of providing her with answers, he sucked in a wavering breath and slowly lumbered forward on his hands and knees.

Madelyn allowed Aryan to reach for her; but when the pain became too much for him she reached out and pushed him up slightly; off his hands and knees as she wrapped her arms around him. "The pain can't hurt you Aryan. You are stronger then the pain." She allowed herself to gently pull on his sensitivity with the force, pulling him back to that endless plain. "Just keep following the sound of my voice and we can be brought back together."

Madelyn hoped it was working, because she was beginning to feel the exhaustion that came lately whenever she used too much of the force. "I promise you'll be okay. You don't have to fear anything with me." Madelyn gently soothed.

IC: White EyesKorriban, watching from the inside of the Cloister of XoXaan

While two of them tangled with Lumiya, all spite and arch arrogance, the Sith merely known as White Eyes watched with his Chagrian toady and red-eyed Inquisitor.

Lightwhip met blade met lightwhip.

Curved hilt, dragonic blade, bending energy.

Crackle, hiss, snap, clash.

Refined Voice and Rasping Voice were powerful foes, refined in a decade of preparation on Korriban.

On the balcony above the interplay, cloaked in the dark itself, the man mused, staring down.

The Force was in flux today, as the clash between Light and Dark began anew.

It was in those moments that one was able to pierce the veil and see the Truth.

Which is why the Twilight Wars had began, all those millennia ago, on a battle between the Light.

What was really happening then, that was eclipsed by the shine.

But, with Jedi and Sith, he would learn more.

Thus, he had arranged today.

White Eyes sneered to himself.

It was irrelevant, though his eyes were drawn to the flux that surrounded Syren, and he felt all manner of eddy and whorl around the woman.

Qi'ra, was her birth name, he divined, but Syren, that belonged to another... and also to herself. The two that fought Lumiya now, White Eyes could sense that they were tied to the 'other' Syren... the one from the future, perhaps?

White Eyes allowed his gaze to drift back Lumiya. What was she up to, taking her as an apprentice?

Did she know, or had she accidentally fell upon a truth among all the lies?

The problem with any grand design based on Korriban was that dozens of Sith spirits could be watching, or any faction plotting, or the past and future peering upon you.

Korriban was such an intense gathering of the dark side of the Force that it warped the fabric of reality.

Within it's depths were rooms out of time, where one could exist and never age.

Within it's tombs were strata dating back to the Rakatan Infinite Empire; some tombs had been created over others over others.

Within it's depths was a whole necropolis, built over and consumed by sand.

For a hundred thousand years the Sith have

And so, Tulak Hord's spirit, the last of the four Shadow Council spirits that had presided over the Sith for millennia, watched, spiteful that the Second Imperium and Disciples of Ragnos were making the world a battleground anew. With a little more finesse, with more training, with more true Sith, this battle would not have needed to happen.

Now Jedi were raining from the skies, and Disciples were barely deployed to defend positions even as they seized the Valley of the Dark Lords.

Tulak Hord merely sniffed, content that his resting place was far enough away from the Tomb of Marka Ragnos that he would not be disturbed. The Cloister of XoXaan was sufficiently away from his tomb also, and that drama could play out as necessary. He had no interest in White Eyes and his ploys and plots.

But then someone crashed a shuttle into his tomb. Incensed, Tulak Hord directed one of his largest hounds to kill the offending parties, Feyna and Rouser.

It bounded forward, and spectral Tulak Hord turned to glance at the flux in the Force near the cloister -

And then the hound stopped.

Compelled to stop.

It paused, whining in obedience as it peered at Rouser.

The archaeologist had the Force... but not his own.

How curious.

Tulak Hord simply reached out to a pack of smaller Tukata hounds - eight in total, and sent them to kill the offenders.

As Aryan and Linnett bonded, Foreteller exuded satisfaction in the Force.

The bond was a tenuous one, not dissimilar to that of a master and apprentice, but it was new, and fresh, and useful.

Voren watched the Foreteller with some concern. Just what came are you playing? He mouthed.

The Foreteller, his face unseen, just shrugged, adopting body language rather than exposing his expression.

But for Aryan, the pain subsided. There was damage, definitely, but there was healing already started, as the Force bond already did it's work. What was evident on his mental self was not the wound that the Sith homeworld had inflicted, but the scars that it had reopened. Sentan's voice ringing in his ears again, that lilting tones of a bastard that enjoyed the pain he inflicted.

For Linnett, she would sense that Aryan was a different type of Force user. His Force didn't feel like Aryan, it felt like someone else - something old, and curious. It was as if the sound of the Force touched Aryan, and not the Force itself. It didn't feel dirty, just different, and noticeably so.

The skies were busy with TIEs exploding and Jedi snubfighters swooping, as well as rusty transports and aged freighters. X-wings, A-wings, even some modern E-wings.

Each ship that landed was able to field a handful of Jedi, before the full force of the Jedi Order was present (less Kyle Katarn and Jaden Korr). The New Jedi Order was far outnumbered by the Disciples of Ragnos, but they were never outclassed.

It was almost inevitable that an X-wing sporting green trims noticed them, piloted by Corran Horn, who swerved to intercept the Imperial-design ship. The Force drew his eye, letting him know the shuttle was important, though leaving the main furball of conflict, centered around the besieged Tomb of Marka Ragnos.

Fire spat out, and slammed into the shuttle; a full-shot, but designed to hit the shields, not blow the ship.

As his Jedi deployed against the Disciples of Ragnos, Luke wondered about the center of the battle.

The focus was on Tavion and the Scepter, but it wasn't all that was going on.

Any battle was a conflict of agendas and intentions - and Luke, as a Jedi Master, could sense as much. This was his first full-fledged battle involving a large group of Jedi and Sith, and it was a different sentiment to targeting a Star Destroyer and its key components.

If anything, the Resurrection meant very little to the battle, positioned as it was defensively and unable to bring its weapons to bare on the planet without wiping out their own forces. While the initial surge of Jedi landings were on-going, there was no focal point for the engagement, until Disciples held them back or they reached Tavion and it was over.

When the battle hit points of deadlock, Luke would strike, though he had already heard that the Moldy Crow, with Kyle, Jaden and a redeemed Rosh Penin, was heading back from Taspir III... so Luke would likely deploy Kyle and Jaden to breach the Temple, for they both had unfinished business with Tavion.

That, and if Luke needed to face Marka Ragnos reborn... only he would be able to stop a Dark Lord of the Sith.

For now, Luke fed his confidence in his Jedi to them all.

To Kyp, to Dorsk 82, to Kirana Ti, to Streen, to Kam, to Tionne, to Corran, to Cilghal, to some three dozen lights in the Force.

The ship rocked and Madelyn let go of Aryan gently before rushing to the controls. No. No. No. How did they find me?

There were Republic ships everywhere. Madelyn realised as the man spoke to them. Jedi.

And then realizing they needed an answer before they fired upon them again, Madelyn felt herself seize up with a moment of fear before blurting out the first thing that came to mind that might actually get them out of this.

"This ship is already set on a pre-dibe trajectory so I really can't just decend and come to a stop. So you know, I would really appreciate not being shot out of the sky for something I can't control." Madelyn realised she was panicking and took a deep breath.

"There's only two of us on this ship okay. Whatever that aruetii Tavion is doing is going to be a lot worse if no one stops them. She already tried to kill me and Aryan..." Madelyn stopped, looking at Aryan and wondering if she should say anything else. I really need to calm down and stop running my mouth. But the Republic will kill me.

She'd found the blaster from her storm trooper disguise, and her comlink revealed itself when the message came in from Drayson; the Republic was coming, she just needed to find a safe place to lay low until they came for her.

The tomb currently did not meet Feyna's definition of "safe," as several large beasts were snarling around the wreck of the shuttle. They definitely couldn't stay here, but Feyna still felt a bit off from the crash, and...right, they still needed to set Rouser's dislocated arm.

The hounds, however, apparently weren't going to wait for that--injured prey was easy prey, for them, and eight of them started toward Feyna and Rouser.

Raising her blaster, Feyna did her best to aim between the eyes of the nearest animal, and started firing.

The hound had heeded his command and had come to a satisfying stop, whining for Rouser’s attention as if it was a dog awaiting it’s masters next command or even for it to have some attention lavished upon it.

I think it would just bite my hand off if I tried that….

However Rouser could feel within his body the tingling sensation that was coursing through his veins. Perhaps he had found the Force, was it accidental or was it by design?. He didn't know or care, right now he had to make sure he got away from this hound and away from the battle above also making sure that Feyna went back to her bosses in one piece.

With the hound now under his command he essentially had a bodyguard of sorts. Feyna had made it out of the shuttle but had not commented much his shoulder still was dislocated and was still sending spikes of pain at shoulder level.

However, the worst was yet to come. It seemed whatever dark entity resided there decided to send more hounds their way, this time there were eight of the bloody things.

Fantastic, I don’t think I can control them all…..

As Feyns fired her blaster Pascale joined in with his remaining arm firing the blaster he had picked up from the dead stormtrooper, hopefully his new found powers would assist.

But perhaps he could use his new bodyguard to his advantage. He looked at the hound with a smile, then turned serious and nodded towards the eight hounds with a thought.

Protect your master, kill the others….

He hated to use an animal in this way, but the only way he and Feyna would get to safety and perhaps another cave was to make sure these hounds didn't eat them both.

The ancient Sith Lord glowered as his largest hound, now Rouser's pet, tore into his pets, while the other two shot at them. Feyna had the better shot, but Rouser had his pet so they were breaking even - Tulak Hord snarled, and directed the remainder hounds to pounce on the first - in a fray of blood, teeth, and blasters, the entire pack died, and Rouser's hound, to Tulak's satisfaction, died with them, laying on the hard sand and heaving a sigh as it slowly died.

Hord watched from the shadows, but settled on satisfaction that they had been driven from his tomb, which was the limit of his range anyway. His slumber could resume...

... while the battle seemed to spread their way. A Jedi Knight and three Sith acolytes were fighting in the distance, the former retreating away from the Tomb of Marka Ragnos. Four Stormtroopers were keeping pace, taking potshots into the fray, but the Jedi was overwhelmed and going down. In short order the Rodian would be dead, and they would be looking for more prey.

They had a very brief moment of peace, to either retreat where the shuttle had been heading, find a tomb to hide in, or try to save the Jedi. Of course, their injuries were a thing...

No, wait, a lightsaber just cut through his shoulder, and his lightsaber went spinning off into the sand.

The tombs seemed to laugh at the Jedi, pleased to see one of their hated foes die.

"This ship is already set on a pre-done trajectory so I really can't just descend and come to a stop. So you know, I would really appreciate not being shot out of the sky for something I can't control."

"There's only two of us on this ship okay. Whatever that aruetii Tavion is doing is going to be a lot worse if no one stops them. She already tried to kill me and Aryan..."

Corran allowed the statement to run through his filters, both Force and investigative. The pilots panic permeated the Force, and Corran narrowed his eyes. Escorting a shuttle down to the surface would take him from the fight, and his pilot-mentality had been fully prepared to slag the ship rather than risk the shuttle doing something later. But the Jedi in him recognised a surrendering foe who likely was telling the truth.

Ignoring the argument that the two could be telling the truth and still be threats, Corran reactivated comms. "Acknowledged. Put down, and stay out of the fight. But keep in mind," Corran allowed steel to enter his voice. "If you reappear in the air, I will shoot you down without compunction. Green Jedi out." With that he kicked his X-wing away, targeting a half-squadron of TIE fighters.

The ship veered off, dropping through the valley, little skirmishes and a downed shuttle beneath them.

Linnett and Aryan were still in eye-sight of Rouser and Feyna when their shuttle dropped down.

---The Cloister

There was another ship evident here, settled down, sealed up.

Within the shriveled building there were various noises, of weapons clashing and hissing.

Syren was out of sync with this plane of existence, and thus though they stood near where she had, she was not there.

But the cloister darkness was such that it was only by standing at entrance the others could see the courtyard through the access tunnel.

See the clash of red upon red.

Lumiya, of course, was dueling to the death with Refined Voice and Rasping Voice, while White Eyes watched on from the balcony above.

His laughter, maniacal, would reverberate from the cloister.

Foreteller winced, and Voren looked back to Foreteller, and then to Linnett. "Who is it?"

"A mistake."

Pain would flare in Linnett's mind as she remembered the voice, but was unable to remember it, but it seared into her.

She knew who White Eyes was.

The Holocron that Aryan had glowed red, becoming incredibly warm, sending a short, sharp, message. It is he who seeks the Echo of the Past, to take it as his own. He who plays his own game through the games of others. He who we were warned of. We were wrong; we were wrong... we were so wrong.
It will come to the Protectors, and fracture they will. The future will be damned by their best intentions...

It paraphrased all that it had known of the original extract.

..will come to the Protectors, and fracture they will. The future will be damned by the best intentions of–

Thankfully Feyna had made progress with the hounds by shooting some of them, whilst Rouser’s new best doggie friend was also laying into the smaller ones.

Unfortunately the Sith Lord was not playing ball and shutting up, Pascale felt the darkness rise up as the smaller hounds turned on their bigger brethren. The pack died and Pascale felt the bigger hounds death through his new senses. Rest in peace my dark hound he sent to the beast as it died.

Eventually the darkness that had been eminting from the tomb had finally decided enough was enough and that they had tormented him and Feyna for a bit had settled back to sleep. A blessing for now unless he and the New Republic agent decided to head inside.

“Good shooting” he said with a smile in Feyna’s direction “It seems our hound friends have been eliminated and our dark host has returned to it’s slumber in it’s tomb” he shrugged “I can’t explain how I know, I can just feel it”

Before he could ask Feyna what they think they should do next Pascale spotted and felt some fighting heading their way. Three of what seemed like Tavion’s lot (mainly because of the darkness emanating from them) and a Jedi (evident because of the light emanating from him and his lighter blade( were dueling it out. And to make it even worse there were stormtroopers with the Tavion lot too.

Definitely not heading that way….

The Jedi went down after a cut in his shoulder and his lightsaber fell to the ground. There weren't many options left. Tavion would no doubt be sensing his new powers a mile away so she would come for him eventually, either that or the Jedi could do him a favour and eliminate her. His favourite option was to find another cave and stay with Feyna until the New Republic came to find them. Feyna probably held information regarding Tavion’s cult, information the New Republic would love to get. And he had promised he would keep her safe.

A shuttle headed over their heads heading in the direction they were originally heading towards. Was it friend or foe? Pascale had no clue. For all he knew it could contain more of Tavion’s minions.

“Well” e said to Feyna “Looks like the battle has come to us. You are no doubt valuable to the New Republic and I would rather get you back in one piece. So I suggest we try and find somewhere to hide, before these rather nasty chaps head our way. If we head to where that shuttle is going we don’t know what we may find there, perhaps more of this lot. I’ll leave it to you”

The hounds were dead, some by Feyna's blaster, some at the teeth and claws of their pack mates. It was actually a little brutal to watch.

She and Rouser were out of the tomb now, but there was no sign of any New Republic ship to pick them up yet. Feyna was hoping they wouldn't be much longer. And the sooner, the better. They weren't safe yet, as evidenced by the fighting in the distance: one Jedi, outnumbered against a few of Tavion's Disciples and some storm troopers. Perhaps she and Rouser could have offered some reinforcement for the Jedi, but it was too late for that. Even from here, they saw the Jedi fall. Definitely not going that way.

A shuttle went overhead, away from the Dark Jedi, but coming down a little too close for Feyna's comfort. Rouser noted that these might be Tavion's, as well, and Feyna wasn't particularly keen to find out. Her head still hurt--dammit, she probably had a concussion, she realized--and she still needed to set Rouser's arm, which still wouldn't be much use even once it was back in place. They could fight if they had to, but Feyna preferred to avoid it if they could. Drayson had said to stay out of the battle. And no heroics.

"Yes, I agree," she told Rouser when he suggested they look for somewhere to hide. "Let's get that shoulder set"--while they had a moment of quiet--"then find some cover, like Drayson said."

"Thank you." Madelyn replied, a little unsure at the Jedi allowing them to land their ship. "We will remain on the ground. Good luck." And with that the communication cut off, and the ship descended onto Korriban's surface.

It took only a few moments for Madelyn to feel the searing pain through the force and she dropped down, clutching at her head as she realised what was happening and saw flashes of the Sith somewhere close by. She yelled and tried to force the image of White Eyes away from her; breathing heavily as the Holocron began to speak. Korriban is supposed to be a haven for Sith...what's going on? Voren? Foreteller? What do I need to do?

The shuttle eventually landed on Korriban’s desolate surface, though Aryan had no recollection of their descent. In fact, he couldn’t remember much at all – he was too haunted by the ‘footprint’ the planet had impressed upon his mind. While the spiritual bond he had forged with Linnett had helped to mitigate the damage, he was left with lingering pain. Some of it was physical – a dull ache at the base of his skull that pulsed in time with his heartbeat – but the rest was psychological.

And perhaps that was the worst kind of all.

The mental barrage had reached far into his consciousness, uncovering hidden thoughts and reopening old wounds that he had believed long healed and forgotten. They all surged back to torment him anew. The most prominent of these thoughts involved his former Chief of Staff, Sentan Moor.

Despite the barriers Aryan had put in place, the man was back inside his head, taunting him and filling his mind with damaging criticisms as he took pleasure in causing Aryan pain. He knew some of these experiences were actual memories from his time in captivity, but others he surmised were likely exacerbated by the adverse effects of this planet – a trick of the mind.

Either way, he could not escape it, and as he stumbled out onto the rocky terrain, Aryan struggled to find his focus. It was like meandering through an endless haze – he had no clear direction and everything seemed meaningless. He felt utterly alone.

Aryan was so engrossed in this self-destructive idealogy that he failed to notice the anguish that had befallen Linnett. It was her scream that ultimately brought him back to the present moment. Now that he was once again in control of his faculties, he could feel her suffering through their bond. It was an acute sense that set the hair on his arms on edge and forced a chill down his spine.

With his jaw clenched tightly, he staggered forward and reached out to support her, but before he could grasp her hand, he perceived a hot, burning sensation against his chest. This elicited a gasp from his lips that took his breath away. For a brief moment, he thought that he was succumbing to a cardiac episode and instinctively clenched for his heart to alleviate the pain. Instead, his fingers brushed across the sharp, angular features of the pyramidal object he had stashed away inside his jacket. Only then did he realize that the Holocron was the source of his discomfort.

As if his touch had awakened it from its slumber, it then began to speak:

It will come to the Protectors, and fracture they will. The future will be damned by their best intentions…

Aryan’s brow creased with concern. It was a curious phrase, but he could not see how it was relevant without proper context. What did it mean by the Protectors? Who were they and how did they relate to them? Was the battle against Tavion’s disciples the result of something put into motion hundreds of years ago? Is that how they destroyed the future?

Parting his lips slightly, Aryan inclined his chin and glanced around at the bleak landscape, almost as if he could pull the answer from something that he could see physically with his own eyes. The only thing of note was a cavern a few yards away, offset into the side of a mountain face. He couldn’t detect anything unusual about it from this vantage point, but it made him shudder all the same.

There might have also been a flurry of movement near the entrance, which would have indicated signs of life, though he didn't have time to investigate further. That's when the darkness swept over him. It poured into his very soul and weakened his stamina. He could no longer support himself under his own weight and his knees gave out under the strain. With an audible groan, Aryan collapsed to the ground, the Holocron tumbling from his open jacket.

At this point, he didn’t even attempt to retrieve it. He simply stared blankly at its crystalline form before lifting his gaze back to the cavern. “We...need to go,” he gasped in a gravelly tone. “I have this feeling--I heard it speak. We n-need to leave this place.”

"Thank you." Madelyn replied, a little unsure at the Jedi allowing them to land their ship. "We will remain on the ground. Good luck." And with that the communication cut off, and the ship descended onto Korriban's surface.

It took only a few moments for Madelyn to feel the searing pain through the force and she dropped down, clutching at her head as she realised what was happening and saw flashes of the Sith somewhere close by. She yelled and tried to force the image of White Eyes away from her; breathing heavily as the Holocron began to speak. Korriban is supposed to be a haven for Sith...what's going on? Voren? Foreteller? What do I need to do?

Who is fighting?

Foreteller went to speak, Voren grimacing at the high-end Force violence. The latter spoke up first. We need to find a safe spot, but where in this battle that is, I don't know.

The voice of the White Eyed Sith cackled anew. "Didn't you swear to serve me, Madelyn Linnett? To be at Hand should I need you?"

Aryan dropped to the floor, dropping a Holocron from his robes. It clattered to the floor and Foreteller hissed. "That Holocron - get it now. He cannot have it." He thundered.

“We...need to go,” he gasped in a gravelly tone. “I have this feeling--I heard it speak. We n-need to leave this place.”

There was a shimmer and a specter rose up.

Two.

Marka Ragnos, a ghoul, and Tulak Hord, another, two Dark Lords that reigned over Korriban, one of which who was poised to be reborn.

Marka Ragnos

Tulak Hord

Ghosts were suddenly visible to the already mentally-strained Aryan, though Linnett would be more versed in the same.

In the dark side, it was obvious that Ragnos was the stronger, being fed by the violence his cultists were enacting. Tulak Hord stepped closer, his ghostly claw reaching out for Linnett's throat -

Voren snapped at Linnett. Force Walk. Now. Consume him like you did us -

If she does it a third time, Darth Voren -

The spectral words of Foreteller told Linnett more about Voren than anything else before -

Voren snapped, WHY DID YOU TELL HER -

Marka Ragnos turned away as an explosion rocked out -

Behind Rouser and Feyna, the skirmish came to an end as the Disciples and Stormtroopers cut down the Jedi, ending a life with a scream -

Then Corran's green trim X-wing arched down, lobbing a torpedo and destroying them in a flash -

The explosion rocked out, upending Rouser and Feyna and sending them crashing to the ground in-front of the tableau in which two Sith Ghosts interrogated a man and a woman - Aryan and Linnett -

(Before or after Rouser's arm had been sorted, who knew?)

The tombs by the explosion collapsed, cutting off this part of the Valley from the Tomb of Marka Ragnos, which was becoming a focal point of the battle itself -

As a red-trimmed X-wing hovered, allowing the Force to direct him.

Luke Skywalker could feel a confrontation elsewhere in the Valley.

But would any of them still be alive by the time he figured out where the Force was sending him?

The merc stood before the specter still unsure of what to do. Half of her wanted to run the other half wanted to shoot it to kill it, there had to be a way to do that. Comms came alive apperantly a shuttle carrying Sentan Moor had been shot down and that the man himself was presumed dead. Her face soured at this. Moor was the money man the one that was going to pay them when all was said and done. Tavion Ka'rta couldn't care less about, didn't even know the woman and all that she had learned was that she was not someone to be trifled with.

"My apprentice is not dead; there was rogues at work. Ones you need not trifle with." As the hand moved closer to her just touching her chin. Instantly her hands moved to her blasters her lip in a sneer under her helmet. Undead sith lord or not, no one, no one touched her like that. Before she could draw down on the ghost he pulled away, looking up to the frozen men behind her.

"They have found us." As the reports rolled in Ka'rta drew her blasters, not with the intent to kill Ragnos or whatever his name was just to be prepared. As the intel splashed over her HUD she sifted through it surprisingly quick. Fighters and transports descending no doubt carrying troops and other unfriendlies. Her lip curled at the identifier she saw Red 5 the great Luke Skywalker, the wonder boy. The new jedi and his little clubhouse was coming down.

"Secure the entrance to the Tomb; the Disciples are on the way but the Jedi may attempt to cut-off the Disciples as they advance upon here; they are Sith; specific assaults like commandos are known for are not their specialty..." Ka'rta turned on her heel, moving with purpose and determination. "Ten thousand credits bonus to every man who kills a Jedi." With a smile she snapped a fresh high explosive warhead into her wrist launcher. She would bag her a jedi.

"Dengar, Bossk," She commed to her 'Lieutenants'. "What is the state of our Anti-Air defenses…"

As she waited for a reply she started to organize what troops she had. With the sky hot being out in the open didn't seem like a good plan...though until she heard back from Dengar and Bossk she wouldn't know just how effective that enemy air support would be.

"Get some barricades set up on the top of the stairs, if we have any heavy weapons set them up here. Until I know what the situation in the sky is we'll need to be careful out in the open." Looking off into the distance she tried to lock down where the Jedi were landing and figure out the course they would take to get to the temple.

Madelyn felt a surge through the force as White Eyes spoke to her and the holocron fell away, before the claw could reach her throat Madelyn ducked away, grasping for the holocron and turning towards Aryan and sending a warning through the force. Don't trust them apprentice. And then she felt the confrontation between Voren and Foreteller in her mind; her head thudding with a headache as she yelled out, "How dare you assume I would join you?" Madelyn shakily stood up, standing up as ground rocked below her. "I already have two people in my head and I don't need anymore." She yelled out, and felt the echo slash through the force. "Don't you understand?" Madelyn shook her head again to centre herself, and felt her heart lurch as she remembered something from the Temple.

I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Her body ached, and she was exhausting herself with the force. But I will not give up. She reached for her lightsaber and nodded to Aryan. Winked at him. "It's time you learned what a real Sith can do." Madelyn turned to the opposition. The ghost. The Pretenders.

Feyna at least was beginning to agree with him on things. They both looked like they needed a few minutes rest. Pascale’s forty two year old body felt like it was screaming for at least a few minutes to sit down or even a lay down. He was not as young as he used to be even though his mind was a s sharp as a younger man.

He still had a job to do and that was to protect Feyna so she could return to the New Republic, maybe he could even offer his services on their payroll. Hell he deserved something for all that he had done.

His shoulder was hopefully about to be set, he had tended to her head perhaps it was only fair she returned the favour, hell he would have reciprocated had the roles been reversed. He was a gentleman after all not a barbarian.

Speaking of barbarians, Tavion’s goons and stormtroopers had finished off the Jedi and Pascale was about to suggest they try and move…

When an X wing trimmed in green decided to lob a torpedo at the group, blowing them to kingdom come….

Oh bloody he-

That was Pascale’s last thought as he was sent flying and Pascale closed his eyes. He could feel the heat scorching him, he felt the blast pushing him into the air and felt the boom impact on his body and dull his senses. And there was no way his new powers were going to save him this time.

All those treasures he would never see, women he would enjoy company with all those adventures he would enjoy may never happen now. He was possibly about to die and on a miserable hell hole like Korriban.

Eventually as he opened his eyes he saw the ground hurtling towards him and landed with a rather unceremonious thud on the ground, taking the wind out of his sails so to speak and possibly making his dislocated shoulder worse. The pain in his body was excruciating and he wondered whether he had broken anything else. He blinked his blue eyes to try and focus on what he was seeing. He was outside a cloister of sorts. But with his vision still blurry he couldn't see what was in front of him and his ears were still ringing.

He tried to look around. Where was Fenya? Was she alright?

His good arm hurt too and he would have to try and crawl around to find her.